[Matt Q]

Snow

We start, as always, with the weather. Rain
her end, while here the snow falls fat and white,
a thing of wonder. Through the window pane,
the swirling flakes obscure the city night.

She can’t talk long, she says, or she’ll be late
to Sunday Mass. It’s Saturday, I say,
and look outside: it’s dark. Wait till it’s light.
Uncertain, she concedes the change of day,

and starts in on her list of things to ask:
how is my health? my partner? and my son?
She wears her easy questions like a mask.
I work to fill the space. The snow falls on.

My mother, anxious that she’s missing Mass,
hangs up the phone. I stand and watch the snow.
It’s childhood snow: the settling kind. The mess
beneath all covered up, at least for now.



------------------
S4L1, capitalised "Mass".

[Mark McDonnell]

Well, this is very beautiful Matt and I wouldn't change a thing. Except maybe the word "easy" which seems a bit too...well, easy.

Mark

[R. Nemo Hill]

Thumbs up, as usual, Matt.
I especially love the delayed use of the word mother, an adept narrative technique.

The ending is quite beautiful, with its gently brutal honesty.

Nemo

[Nick McRae]

I also really like this but do wonder about the use of the word fat to describe snow. On one hand it feels a little out of place to me, but on the other it strikes the right balance of being direct and casual, in congruence with the rest of the poem. I want to suggest changing it, but I'm not sure what else you'd use. Being overly poetic likely isn't the way you want to go.

[Hilary Biehl]

I love this, Matt.

[Jim Moonan]

.
The juxtaposition of snow falling and the conversation/relationship of mother and child is simply, beautifully rendered/imagined. Another poem of yours that I wish I had written.

S2 is where the heart of the poem is, imo. So much is implied and is latent in that stanza. It nearly tips the poem over with its heaviness, but doesn't. The poem moves on. The snow continues to fall, finally covering over what is unsettling in S2.

In S4 I was startled to see the N standing, it seems, outside in the snow, like a child would. It may not be your intent, but it works beautifully for me.

The final words, "at least for now" are both unsettling and comforting.

You've worked magic with this one.

.

[Julie Steiner]

Matt, I love the way decapitalizing "mass" in its second appearance turns "missing mass" into a physical health concern, while also reinforcing the initial mental concern of the date mixup (and perhaps that she has forgotten the earlier correction).

For me, the mention of "fat" snowflakes took on a different connotation on the second reading, because of the still-to-come "missing mass". The whole poem is gently, beautifully understated.

[Susan McLean]

It's a wonderful poem, Matt. I took "mask of easy questions" to imply that they are easy for her to remember and to say; she can let you do most of the talking so that you will not notice what is wrong with her.

Susan

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Matt—

I really like this piece. You load a great deal of complex characterization into just a few lines of simple, straightforward language. I like the pararhymes (late/light, mass/mess) and eye rhymes (son/on, snow/now) which create an undercurrent of tension.

I was going to point out the inconsistent capitalization of “Mass” and “mass,” but Julie’s post clarified your subtle intent.

I’m okay with “easy questions” if you mean to imply that the mother is sticking to her familiar and rehearsed script to conceal her incipient dementia. If you intended to suggest her reluctance to really find out about possibly upsetting things, you might use “formal questions.”

Many Catholic Churches have Vigil Masses on Saturday evenings. If your intent was to show the mother’s serious confusion, you might pick a different weekday.

Lovely work.

Glenn

[Alex Pepple]

Hello, Matt,

This is elegantly simple yet deeply resonant—your pacing and flow feel effortless, and the understated emotional weight lands beautifully.

One thing that gave me pause was "a thing of wonder" in the first stanza. While I understand the contrast between snow's beauty and its ordinariness, “wonder” feels unearned at that moment—especially since snow is so commonplace.

That said, I don’t think "wonder" should be discarded outright—rather, I wonder if it would better serve the poem later, in place of "childhood snow" in the last stanza. Swapping “wonder” and “childhood” between the first and last stanzas could heighten the narrative progression:

• In the opening, "childhood snow" could subtly foreshadow nostalgia, adding an early hint of personal connection.
• In the closing, replacing “childhood snow” with "a thing of wonder" would make the realization more poignant—it has been earned through the journey of the poem, especially with the mother’s presence adding layers of memory and reflection.

Additionally, placing both "childhood" and "mother" in the last stanza feels a bit heavy-handed—as if both revelations arrive at once. Letting "childhood" enter the poem earlier makes the ending feel more balanced and naturally unfolding, rather than stacking both emotional cues in the final lines.

Just a thought! Regardless, this is a beautifully crafted poem.

Cheers,
...Alex